


Everything will change

by sburbanite



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Inspired by Music, M/M, Music Kink, One True Pairing, POV Karkat Vantas, The postal service, True Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sburbanite/pseuds/sburbanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave expresses his love for Karkat through a song, but he can't resist messing with him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything will change

**Author's Note:**

> For best results, listen along with Karkat at:  
> https://youtu.be/AcqQDM-qOG0

I’m sitting minding my own business in the common area, when Dave accosts me by forcing a pair of headphones over my ears. I jump, letting out an undignified screech. The smug look on Dave’s face, coupled with the snickering laughter coming from the couch where Kanaya and Rose are snuggled up together, threatens to tip my already fragile psyche into rage mode. My scowl makes him burst out laughing too, though it softens when I see my face reflected in his shades. The headphones are purple crabs, seemingly alchemised especially for whatever he has planned. Pulling them off my ears, I tilt my head toward the pair in the corner, willing him to understand what I’m trying to get across:

_WHAT THE FUCK, STRIDER? NO PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION, MORON._

He snorts, and I realise there isn’t anything inherently boyfriend-y about putting a pair of headphones on me, even custom ones as nice as these.

“Put em’ on, Karkat, I’ve finally found some human music I think you’ll like.”

“UN-FUCKING-LIKELY, STRIDER. ALL THE MUSIC IN YOUR COLLECTION IS TERRIBLE SYNTHESISED CLUSTERFUCKS OF NOISE, WITH IDIOTS RAMBLING ABOUT BITCHES AND HO’S OVER THE TOP.”

He laughs again, the stupid grin on his face making me wish he’d chosen to do this in a more private place. I can tell he isn’t going to let this drop, so I lower the headphones carefully over my ears. They’re comfy, and I have to say I’m a little curious. Dave knows I like music that indulges the romance in my soul, and so far while I’ve had 99 problems with Dave, sharing his musical taste hasn’t been one of them.

He looks over at his laptop, fiddling with a few keys, and the stupid song starts. The first few sounds are clicks and rattles, before the inevitable electronic beats begin. High, thin, annoying. The bass kicks in shortly after, filling out the sound into something more bearable. My expression is grumpy, sceptical, until I spot the little lines on Dave’s forehead that tell me that he actually cares. That this is important to him. When the vocals start, instead of the usual faux-macho rapping, it’s a soft, breathy voice. Much closer to my tastes.

_“I'll be the grapes fermented,_

_Bottled and served with the table set,_

_In my finest suit,_

_Like a perfect gentleman.”_

The lyrics are like his vocal patterns, rambling and joined up, and oh so sweet. I feel the blush starting below the neckline of my shirt when I realise what this is all about.

_“I'll be the fire escape that's bolted to the ancient brick,_

_Where you will sit and contemplate your day._

_I'll be the water-wings that save you if you start drowning in an open tap,_

_When your judgment's on the brink.”_

For the whole month our secret relationship has lasted, Dave has lamented his inability to express himself romantically, honestly, without falling back on his ironies and jokes. As someone for whom romance comes as easy as breathing, it's been a little grating. So he’s done the next best thing, and found some music to express it for him.

_“I'll be the phonograph that plays your favourite albums back,_

_As you're lying there drifting off to sleep..._

_I_ _'ll be the platform shoes, undo what heredity's done to you..._

_You won't have to strain to look into my eyes.”_

He squeezes my hand under the table at that last line, and I realise he must have memorised the time-signature in the song, since he can’t hear it. I can tell he’s gazing into my eyes through the shades, and I wish I could take them off. I wish we were in his room, or mine, because I wouldn’t stop at just his glasses.

_“I'll be your winter coat,_

_Buttoned, zipped straight to the throat_

_With the collar up, so you won't catch cold.”_

The music swells, and I’m losing myself in it. I understand why he chose a fusion of electronic beats with what he would no-doubt consider sappy romantic nonsense. It’s us, our relationship. The smile that has stolen over my face is being mirrored back a thousand-fold on Dave’s. I can’t tell how my attempts to suppress the redness in my cheeks are going, but Dave is failing big-time.

When the chorus starts, I nearly have a blood-pusher failure.

_“I want to take you far,_

_from the cynics in this town,_

_And kiss you on the mouth.”_

Shit, Strider. Why’d you have to do this here, now? In the middle of the fucking common area, with your sister a few feet away? This is probably the most romantic thing that is ever going to happen to me as long as Dave’s in control of my quadrants, and it’s being ruined by his atrocious fucking timing.

_"We'll cut our bodies free_

_From the tethers of this scene,_

_Sow a brand new colony,_

_Where everything will change,_

_We'll give ourselves new names.”_

Dave’s grin is getting wider as he sees the discomfort in my face, the fidgeting I’m doing as I try to keep my arousal in check. The times we’ve talked about what we’ll do after the game finally ends, when we’ll finally be free to be ourselves, to be together, are flooding into my think-pan unbidden. He’s doing this on purpose. The stupid, infuriating, gorgeous, romantic idiot is messing with me even as he confesses his fucking love for me. I look daggers at him, sending mental curses his way:

_FUCK YOU, STRIDER. FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOU FUCKING RODE IN ON._

He waggles his eyebrows at me enticingly, as if to say:

_Later, babe. If you think you can handle me._

Shit, now I’m writing mental dialogue for him that sounds like something out of the cheesiest kind of rom-com. The kind we watch every night before bed.

_“Identities erased,_

_The sun will heat the ground,_

_Under our bare feet,_

_In this brand new colony,_

_This brand new colony.”_

The music is building, intensifying, making me dizzy with the overlapping orchestral melodies and electronic beats. I have a prowerful urge to start kissing him and never stop, probably because I know I can’t. I’m not letting him have all of the fun, though, as I run my hand gently up his thigh, stopping just before his crotch, and gripping the firm muscle there. I’m not going to be the only one sitting here with what he insists on referring to as a “boner”.

As the lyrics fade back in, breathy as I am breathless right now, I lock eyes with his shades and bite the corner of my lip with a single fang. The moaning "ooohs" that accompany the final coda are pushing my libido into overdrive.

_“Everything will change,_

_“Everything will change.”_

The little squeak that he lets out, coupled with what I can feel against the side of my hand, is more than enough payback for this whole stunt. The hand still holding his is slick with his sweat, but I squeeze it gently anyway, and release his thigh from my grip. The big, wide smile on my face is designed to let him know that I couldn’t be happier that everything has changed for me. For us.

When the song ends, I take off the headphones and lay them gently on the table. If the girls have looked over at us during the time we’ve been eyefucking each other, they give no sign. They don’t look like they’ve moved from their position behind a weighty romance novel. Dave clears his throat, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarser than normal.

“So… whaddaya think? I thought it had enough sappiness in it for you to like it.”

I stick my tongue out at him, briefly, relishing the surprise on his face.

“IT WASN’T BAD, STRIDER. BUT I THINK YOU CAN DO BETTER.”

I grab my new headphones, gently removing the plug from Dave’s laptop, and wrap them around my neck. Having done so, I saunter out of the common area, knowing it’ll be a few minutes before Dave can follow me without embarrassment. Although, in a fitting ironic twist, the thought of following me will probably make it longer than that.

I thank the gods for the properties of troll anatomy as I head toward my room. No matter how long it takes, I’m going to make it worth his wait. And we’re going to listen to that song again where no-one can fucking see us.


End file.
